arctic fire
by ninjaD4NC3R
Summary: Amber Venandi — only a world-renowned asshole. Theo Mason — a most persistent little shit. "I swear it on the River Styx, I will make her smile."


**A/N: DISCLAIMER: Don't own anything you recognize; characters are mine with an exception of few which belong to their respective owners. **

**This is written as a response to the writing contest c: I have no confidence I will win, but it was fun to write this. I haven't written for the PJO/HoO fandom for quite a bit, and I am a bit rusty. Amber is completely based off of Levi because I suck at writing any other personality but asshole-like. ;) Enjoy this short little piece, my lovelies!**

**Reviews are always loved.**

**Please read, relax, and enjoy~**

**~Spire**

* * *

"I swear it on the River Styx, I will make her smile."

**x-x-x**

_Age seven..._

"Get the hell outta 'ere, bitch," her own mother snarled, a bottle of whiskey gripped loosely in her right hand and a wicked sharp kitchen knife in her left. "Get the fuck out of my life," she stumbled forward, swaying tipsily as she did but that didn't change the burning hate in her eyes, diverged and fueled by the overdosage of alcohol. The girl trembled violently but she didn't flinch; she knew of her powers and understood that she was fully capable that, under her own wishes, she could burn her mother to ashes with a light touch.

She stumbled closer; the pungent odor of alcohol made the girl's nose wrinkle disdainfully. The knife gleamed coldly in the pale afternoon light that filtered through closed blinds. Shadows and light danced across her mother's gaunt face as she advanced slowly, making her seem more horrendous and monstrous. She laughed manically, a cruel smile on her thin, chapped lips. "Oi, scared now, little bitch?" she taunted, "Scared you gonna die right 'ere." Her eyes briefly flared a metallic-silver before returning to their usual bloodshot state.

"_Stop_," it was a simple command, but it worked. The woman stopped in her clumsy advance and dropped the knife, where it buried in the hardwood floor. A mist the color of midnight swirled around the girl, creating a distance between the girl and her drunken mother — soothing murmurs, sharp and velvety, were whispered in her ear, empty promises feeding the dreams that the girl desperately wanted to be true.

_"Ah, Amber Venandi, a bright and beautiful spirit; I will not claim you just yet, but anyone you step too close to will be harmed."_ The hissing, mocking laughter suggested that they would go so much farther than just harming whoever. _"Will you listen, or will you disobey me, my darling?" _The word darling was said in a similar way one might say "next victim" or "murder suspect"; a shiver involuntarily crept down her spine.

"I-I'll l-listen."

_[and perhaps those were the words she'd regret most in her lifetime]_

**x-x-x**

_Age nine..._

All the curious gazes were on the newly claimed Hephaestus girl bathed in a warm, fiery glow; a small holographic hammer floated above her head. She didn't seem fazed or excited by the entire occurrence; her gaze was fixated upon the horizon, firmly staring past the campers with an emotionless, expressionless facade. A few murmured congratulation in which she curtly nodded acknowledgement to; was she hiding her excitement or her dread?

_[maybe long ago, she could still feel emotion]_

You never saw much of her around the camp; she was hidden behind a wall of rapidly growing tresses, raven-black and untamed, a perfect way to separate herself from the rest of the world. Few to no words were exchanged with her cabinmates, and even less were spoken between any others'. Most of the time she would be tacit, drowned in her own nightmarish thoughts. Sometimes the occasional, exceptionally bold camper would walk up and greet her cheerfully, only to be put down with her aloof and indifferent responses and emotionless visage.

"Hey, Amber!"  
"How are you doing?"  
"Do you need any help?"

_[maybe her love was masked for these small, considerate gestures?]_

**x-x-x**

_Age eleven..._

Some say she opened up; others believed that she just got over the general trauma of discovering her true self — she came around, like every shy camper did Either way, Amber Venandi opened up; her responses were extended to complete phrases instead of one-word replies. In spite the fact that she was in the muffled whispers that were passed around camp, she got along decently well with the rest of her cabinmates with her strong work ethic and her natural forte at building and creating things. Her distance was still kept nevertheless; few people approached her directly unless ordered.

_[she never lost her dark aura]_

**x-x-x**

_Age thirteen..._

She was thirteen now; not much had changed from when she was 11, except for the fact that she had grown an half an inch and she began to speak more often, though they were mostly impertinent comments and casually derogatory remarks on people who had stepped so much as a inch closer to her. Young campers learned to fear her and even older campers were careful with their words around her — she had an intimidating aura in spite of her small frame.

_[until one who did not learn how to keep her words away]_

"Hi, are you the person that everyone is scared of?" A youthful voice interrupted her in the middle of making a shield; Amber stood, a little stunned at first, because all she had heard for weeks was her hammer ringing against Celestial bronze and the sound of gears whirring to life inside her newly created navigation system. She swiveled around to face the person who had spoke, a blonde-haired, gray-eyed girl no more than six years old — clearly the newest member of the Athena cabin. Inwardly she chuckled humorlessly at her intrepidity; she would learn to be fearful of her soon enough. She knelt down, her face covered with streaks of sweat, grime and machine grease and lightly tapped the girl's chin.

"Are _you _scared of me?" was her response; her voice was rough with disuse and slightly hoarse, even but the message came across.

"No," the little girl shook her head firmly. "I'm not. Everyone thinks you're scary, but I think you're friendly." _How naïve, _were her thoughts, but they were laced with affection and fondness — she to take a liking towards this girl, with her spunk and rebellious attitude.

_[and for a moment she had forgotten about him]_

"What's your name?" Amber asked suddenly

"I'm Rylee," the little girl beamed, clearly proud that Amber had finally asked her something. "I'm almost seven," she added self-importantly, causing the older girl to smile faintly, amused. She extended a rough, calloused hand to the younger and grasped her young firmly.

_[and that sealed the young girl's death]_

**x-x-x**

_Age fifteen..._

Rumors went like wildfire around the camp; that the famed-for-her-attitude Hephaestus girl finally found a friend, and it was a little girl barely nine years of age. All the Hephaestus campers had become accustomed to her daily visits to the forges to see the older girl but that didn't stop the whispers that were around every corner.

Rylee's voice could be heard from almost across camp as she yelled, "Amber! I'm here!" Amber would, like usual, would come over, pat the girl with a grimy hand and beckon her over to whatever it was she was currently working. Rylee would bounce over, beam radiantly at the rest of the campers in the forges, and work next to Amber for the rest of the evening, chattering away about her day.

_[and when she was there, __the atmosphere almost seemed lighter]_

**x-x-x**

But Amber knew it was coming for her, sooner or later — he never broke his promises, that was for sure. Every night she walked Rylee back to her cabin, and left only when she was inside and the door slammed shut. She made attempts to remain sanguine, but when the dracanae invaded that night, directly towards the Athena cabin, she knew full well she was the cause of the innocent girl's death.

_[I told you that you'd pay]_

"No, Rylee," for the first time the campers heard a note of desperation in the cold girl's voice, and it wouild be etched in their minds forever. "Please," her voice cracked, for the first time in years as she held the dying girl's hand, "I'm _sorry_." They were empty, despairing words, and Amber absolutely despised herself for it. Above, the stars gleamed frostily and the moon kept shining its cold, luminescent light; the wind hissed through the trembling leaves, with the sound of mocking laughter in it. She glared through her spinning tears at the still-standing Apollo campers. "What are you fucking doing?" she snarled venomously, "Get Chiron, for fuck's sake. Heal her." As she spat the last few words, immediately she felt guilt, but still she pressed her lips to her cooling forehead, trying to capture the last scrap of warmth.

"I'm okay, Amber. Don't blame them," Rylee whispered hoarsely, a hand folded over her stomach where the poison had seeped in. Her cheeks were still tinted with their usual cheery color and her hand was still warm and Amber felt like he was ridiculing her with it; to painfully remind her that she was still dying on the inside as the poison blossomed, claiming every bit of her body in spite of the perfectly healthy-looking exterior. "Amber," she choked a little on the word, "Keep burning, okay? I love you."

_[and her hand fell limp to Amber's single tear]_

**x-x-x**

_Age twenty..._

"What do you dare him to do?"

There was a pause the person who the question was directed to contemplated On the worst outcomes of this new twisted idea.

"I dare him to...

...make Amber Venandi smile."

**x-x-x**

A girl was hammering away in the forges, furiously muttering long strings of profanity whenever she paused her work to carefully scrutinize it; she was clearly dissatisfied at the quality of her outcome. From a distance, she was a very petite girl; anyone could have mistaken her for being much younger than she really was. She could have been considered a decently pretty person, with her high cheekbones, angular chin, and sharp, definitive features, if it were not for the scowl that inhabited her face and the crease that formed in her thin eyebrows when she was concentrating hard. The crumpled blueprints next to her were stained with machine grease and other various substances, but they were all labeled with a barely legible name written in smudged blue ink at the top right-hand corner that read Amber Venandi.

Amber focused on melding the metals together, unaware of the Hermes' boy's presence behind her. Tiny sparks crackled at the tip of her finger as heat radiated from her hand — she felt no pain, of corse, but the satisfying hiss of the searing metal told that she was doing the job. She had inherited the skill from Leo Valdez, a previous Hephaestus kid that had been in many stories of the war with the giants; except that she could not generate actual fires, but there was an immense amount of heat in her body that she literally radiated it from her hand.

"Boo!" shouted Theo, earning a glare from the younger female. He grinned easily, clearly not noticing the younger's furious scowls. She turned away and continued to hammer away at the bronze plate she was fashioning for capture the flag tonight.

"Can't you see I'm fucking doing something, asshole," she muttered darkly. "Get the hell out of here."

Theo glanced at her, clearly disapproving. "There are younger kids around here," he scolded.

"See if I care, little shit." The said kids that Theo had just gestured to giggled, causing the taller boy to groan. Amber rolled her eyes, silently hoping that Theo would fuck off, and leave her to finish battle plans with the rest of her cabinmates, who had traded cleaning schedules with the Ares cabin and created an alliance with the Athena so they could kick ass at the games tonight. She wasn't going let the stupid shitty Hermes boy ruin that.

"Not helping at all, Amber." He was doing his best to try and like the girl, but damn it was hard with her see-if-I-give-a-fuck attitude. Theo stayed firm to his promise though; he wasn't one to give up easily.

And despite the fact that he was almost a foot taller than her and she was two years younger, her attitude made her seem intimidating as hell. Not to mention the fact that she had a pistol with her at all times and never hesitated to remind them of her deadly aim, though she was never overly obnoxious of her skills. She was just quietly aware and used them to help all the campers in artful and cunning ways while very possibly threatening to shoot them. Though he suspected she would never actually do it; he was completely convinced that her interior was a giant fluffy marshmallow. But the giant fluffy marshmallow was armed with a pistol very capable of putting something in his head.

"I was never meant to," Amber retorted dryly. "I was practically fucking built to cause pain. Now, fuck off or feel a bullet in your skull," she sounded deadly serious, but Theo wasn't one to give up easily. He instead whistled, hardly fazed, and strolled over luxuriously (as _if _he all the time in the world) to her side, poking at miscellaneous things on her table and jumping back when he touched hot metal.

"I like the cold much better," Theo commented idly. "I'd love to visit the arctic and meet Santa Claus one day."

_[and maybe Theo never noticed the glint in her eyes, but everyone else did]_

**x-x-x**

Theo Mason was an asshole, if she put it plainly; he was persistent little fuck and Amber hadn't seen anyone so determined to be around her since... well, since _Rylee_. She wasn't _allowed_ to become devoted to anyone, because quite frankly, she wasn't _lying_ when she was built to cause pain, she truly _was_. The Earth trembled beneath her light treads and the sky rumbled with her hushed voice.

_[maybe long ago, she still feared death]_

Her legs dangled off the boardwalk of the lake; many still found it strange that she enjoyed the water so much despite her power over fire. They were oblivious to the fact that her typically tense body and facial features relaxed and her eyes fluttered shut, her mind free from the bindings of anxiety and stress.

That is, until the shitty Hermes boy decided to appear again.

_[but maybe he didn't notice an indistinct smile at the edge of her lips]_

**x-x-x**

_Age 24..._

"Chiron, please. You fucking know me. I'm not that fucking careless. I swear, it will work. I've tested it before. It works great," _If I intended to go to China along the way, of course._

"Amber–"

"I am twenty-four fucking years old and I think that you're just not fucking aware of my abilities."

A very audible sigh could be heard, "Who else?"

"Just him."

"You'll be careful," although it was phrased like a statement, there was a hint of a warning behind the words.

"Yes, for fuck's sake," clearly the speaker was exasperated. "I've taken care of all the shit known as safety precautions."

"Fine."

**x-x-x**

It was a beautiful autumn day — the sky was a crystal blue, dotted with patchy white clouds, curtesy of Zeus, and the viridiscent shades of summer were exchange for majestic hues of gold, red and brown. A petite, dark haired girl tugged anxiously at a simple, clean white sundress that her friend had helped her choose during a special, out-of-camp "mission" to a wedding tailor's. It was nothing fancy or extravagant; no frills, lace, or fringe. It was strapless, and hung slightly above her knees, and despite the fact that she did not have many curves in her body, it hugged it perfectly.

"You'll do great, Amber," the taller girl next to her reassured her now pacing friend. She was dressed in a light blue dress that brought out the shades in her hazel eyes, brown hair free from her typical pigtails.

_[the melody began, softly, gently]_

She stepped out to the smiling faces of all her friends and cabinmates; each step was firm against the ground as she walked down in simple white flats. Her eyes were glued against the lanky boy smiling at her at the end; he was clothed in only crisp jeans and a light blue button-up t-shirt, but that made her love it all the while more.

The pastor, Logan, began to speak, tears glistering in his eyes. "Your vows, please," he spoke quietly. Neither of them pulled out a piece of paper — it was clear they didn't need it.

He went first; bravely facing the shorter girl. He cleared his throat and smiled — his voice was lucid and loud as he began.

"To be honest, you were hard to like at first," he admitted, earning a few chuckles from the crowd. "But when I realized that I did — I figured it was just something special about you I needed, but that wasn't it. I just needed you; all of you, the asshole part, the kind," he paused as a few scoffed, although it was all in good nature, "the awkward — and in all spite of your hatred for my hilarious puns. Well, beauty is the eye of the beholder, a once famous–" he halted again thoughtfully. "–person said, and this beauty has gripped this beholder with memories to last til the end of time." His words were greeted with warm applause and even a few dabbed away tears.

Amber pulled out her vows, written on the back of an old blueprint, and scowled at them before she tore them up, throwing them over her shoulder to who knows where, but judging by the quiet giggles and complaints, it had obviously gotten to some of the guests. "I honestly cannot fucking understand how you manage to come up with so much original sentimental shit while my vows are full of fucking clichés I found in books. But screw that now, here I go. Try not to fucking die laughing."

"You were — and still are — an asshole, Theo Mason. A fucking persistent asshole, that is, with a firm goal. You wouldn't be fucking satisfied unless you reached that goal. Although I was damn sure that 5"2 girls with creative profanities and a pistol full of bullets weren't the current trend — but you've managed to surprise me alright. I wasn't just a trend for you. I didn't come and go like the wind. And this?" She tapped the silver band she now wore on her left ring finger.

"It may not symbolize an eternity of fucking happiness, but either way I'd step into it willingly."

Once the applause had faded away, Logan, still teary-eyed but beaming brightly, spoke, "Do you, Theo Mason, take her, Amber Venandi, to be your wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do you two part?"

"I do," there wasn't even the slightest trace of hesitation in his voice as he did, but he clasped her hands a little tighter.

"And do you, Amber Venandi, take him, Theo Mason, to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do you two part?"

There was no darkening of the sky or sudden chilly winds but Amber knew it was coming — it had long been coming, but it waited patiently for the right moment to strike. And when she broke free of Theo's clutch and leapt up where the unseen bullet was about to pierce through his heart; she could only feel a numbing cold blossoming in her body as it claimed the wrong person. This was the same pain that happened to Rylee, but he had deliberately made it slower, longer, painless, just to mock her.

_"Oh, my little slave, did you think I forgot about you? Maybe that was intended for your lover, but it you deserve it just as well. Enjoy your last hour." _The last word was punctured by a cold, gleeful cackle; the dark shadow that had lurked at the edge of the clearing drifted away.

She gritted her teeth and ignored the curious and strange stares from the guests. Lightly she touched the prick of blood left by the arrow, hastily swiping it away, and grabbed Theo's hand, sprinting down the aisle with the stunned boy in tow.

_[only one more hour to live]_

**x-x-x**

Amber flung open the door of her cabin and tore off the wedding veil as she stomped in, kicking off her flats and replacing them with her usual black combat boots — it was a strange combination of gothic and traditional. "A3," she shouted, a bronze bunk popping up. She immediately sprung into action, retrieving a small square of metal with countless buttons it from her headboard. Jabbing expertly at a few, a bronze staircase unfolded. Amber began to climb, but she halted and beckoned to Theo, who was still standing at the door of the cabin.

"Let me give you a rundown of this shit," Amber stated brusquely. She really wanted to get going but she knew she would get nowhere with out a proper and well owed explanation to Theo. "Those late nights I spent screaming at Chiron? It led to this," she gestured at seven-foot-tall box made entirely of what Theo assumed to be Stygian iron, judging by the dark exterior; beside it was a command center with dozens of levers and buttons. "Step in," she ordered, darting over to the command center to press a button.

She quickly stepped in, prayed to Hephaestus that there would be no detours to China, and listened as the gears whirred to life. After a minute or so, Amber let out a sigh of relief, and pushed open the door with a small red button. Theo had been silent the entire ride, drained of his usual cheery demeanor.

_[welcome to Antartica]_

"You always wanted to visit Santa Claus in person; I figured this was the closest I would ever get you to," Amber indistinctly smiled at the fond memory; she walked ahead nevertheless. Theo, on the other hand, barely noticed the endless fields of snow. He giddily followed the shorter girl; his heart practically felt cramped and restricted in his chest. When she finally turned around, a smirk could seen on her lips. Her ivory skin practically glowed under the dark atmosphere and her black tresses were the only definable feature next to her stormy blue eyes. They typically took on huge shade of the surrounding atmosphere — which was hazel or green, primarily — but now they were a shade of china blue.

"Let's dance," she murmured, guiding a shaky hand of his to her waist and the other positioned in a waltz, "or just fucking stumble around like we're trying to mimic some fucking romance movie."

_[and they danced to the whispers of the Arctic wind]_

Their movements together were fluid and seamless; but Amber could practically feel seconds ticking away in the back of her mind as Theo spun her around before effortlessly catching her in a perfectly coordinated fall. Her entire body was icy cold, and she hoped that the temperature of the Arctic would disguise it but there was no such luck, as she practically gave off heat. She could feel her breath grow shallow and ragged, as death tugged more insistently, but Theo didn't notice — he was too absorbed, his eyes closed peacefully.

_[it is my time, now]_

"Theo," she rasped as he subconsciously twirled her again; it was the same routine they kept repeating, "I do." And her cold body fell into his waiting arms, in perfect sync with his anguished cry.

_[you may now kiss the bride]_

* * *

**/flees**

**I'm sorry, dammit. I couldn't resist. This turned out to a lot longer and much, much more confusing. The wedding scene was begging to be added. Yell at me all you want. c': Sorry for my shitty choice of words. **

**~Spire**


End file.
